1
by ReyaKeely
1. Introduction

Fire danced on the breeze, creating a blanket of smoke to drift heavenly. Amongst the screaming, fleeing villagers were warriors, some on horseback, using disrupters, swords, pikes, axes even bare hands against those poor souls who did reach the dense woods nearby.

One dark warrior, atop a black stallion, watched with disinterest. At his hip was a holstered disrupter and a broadsword was sheathed on the other side. His breast plate displayed golden intertwining snakes and his black cloak was flapping by the wind. His head was crowned by long, straight, blond hair and his eyes were a deep blue that seemed to see everything. His dialect, when he spoke, was that of the Third realm, the underworld, welded mercilessly.

He stared as if through the chaos at the advancing Crusades his eyes betraying nothing. There neighbors had been pushing forth for along time, striking war with Finach. He knew it was useless to run, for those who managed to escape would be killed by dieses or turned into slaves once the Revolution had ended. A shout command was given from another leader, he heard nothing though. The leader advanced on his horse trying to regroup the formation without much success. It was almost impossible, they out numbered them. There forces where also better skilled in the art of war.  
But he was a master warrior, one of the great few. His eyes glittered cold fire as he rode off, leading that section into attack. Using great skill and strength he used his sword and war axe to hack and slay at their enemies. Caught in the maelstrom of the battle he looked about him and swore, they couldn't hold much longer and he knew that. He urged his horse forward into the heart of the fight.

"To me!" he shouted out furiously holding his sword in a read position. "Come to me!"

His men swarmed around him as he charged into the thickest of the fight. Their enemies turn unexpected at the charge. Faces drained of color and glowing with anger atop golden and brown mares stared at them.

He brought his shield up to intercept a blow from a rather tall and muscular man atop a golden mare. The mace shattered against the shield. He swore briefly as the shield buckled and his arm went numb. Quickly he discarded the now-useless shield while his foe circled around coming back with another charge. Switching his sword to his left hand he grabbed out his battle axe raising it up just in time to stop the opposing warrior's sword while jamming his sword into the others gut. Staring only briefly at the struggling warrior he pulled his sword out his enemy, using his foot to wench it out causing the warrior to fall to the ground where he wriggled up on his side, dieing.

He didn't have a second thought about that warrior before advancing onto two smaller ones who were coming at him. With a simple slice upward he sliced off one of their arm before ducking from a savage blow swung by the other. The blow landed onto the other, taller, and now only one armed warrior's horse which let out a loud screech of pain before reeling on its hind legs knocking its rider to the ground and galloping away. The warrior on the ground rolled onto his side, trying to avoid getting trampled, cradling his arm stub.

In the mean time the other warrior now circled around him letting out a growl as he swung his sword towards his opponents head, though missing in his wild rage. Again the warrior swung, leaving a vital spot on his chest between his breastplates open. He spotted that imminently and ducked sliding back upwards in time to lung his sword into the warrior's chest. He didn't have time to retrieve his sword before the next fighter came onto him. Just in time he thrust upward with his axe cutting off the warrior's hand. The warrior let out a cry of pain dropping his sword and grabbing at where his hand used to be. A nearby ally threw up his shield at the wounded warrior dismounting him in a shriek of pain.

A loud high shrill of women's voices went up. Everyone's head flew in the direction, towards the woods only to see the previous peasants and other villages that had ran into the woods retreating from it with a rush.

"Hobgoblins!" A few shouted through deep gasp of breath and yells of panic. Eyes shaded, enemies almost forgotten they all looked towards the newly blazing trees, which were starting to fall, crushing retreating villagers.

Then without a word of command his enemies turned on there horses, or on foot and ran for it. He galloped to the still startled group of leaders. He knew they had to calm down and regroup all the warriors or they would all die. The Hobgoblins were getting closer, grunts were heard from the forest, and the ground shook.

"We must stay and defend the village" He shouted over the grunts, breaking the leaders daze one looked at him like he was a mad man to say such.

"Are you crazy? We will surely loose!" He replied, his voice sounding scratchy.

"We will stay and defend the villages until we get command to do otherwise." Another one spoke up. "We are all aisling, not some barbarian animal to be commanded to death, our lives are valuable sir, if we die," he shivered "we may not be resurrected."

"And what are they?" He asked harshly "Do you believe they have any better faith then us? At least we can defend them. If we do not hold them off, or if we let them pass here were do you think they will stop? Here? I don't think so. The only thing they know is destruction, greed and power." He started at them his jaw tight.

"What good do you think we can do? Entertain them? Mayhap we should a dance while they sit back and clap for us!" another jested, face tense and white. "What chance does a handful of worn out warriors have against hobgoblins?. Half of the army has already been killed by our enemies, and look at them" he motioned behind him "they high tailed it out of here!" All eyes were on me by now. The hobgoblins had already reached it to the edge of the forest, glimpses of them already showing.

"We must try. We must try for those who cannot, or we will all die." He sat up on his mount and galloped away.

"We must send theses creatures to Hell!" he called over his shoulder. The leaders just sighed and watched as the bold blond headed warrior started to recruit the army. They could see why so many aislings were willing to follow him to death and beyond. They glanced at each other and silently agreed, riding down to join him.

Thus did the story begin….


	2. Part1

"Ah, but he was a good lad when he was younger." The old man paused and tugged on his beard. "He was also very withdrawn never really socialized. Quiet, that one be." He chuckled "But what 'ore can ye' expect, being raised by the priest an all. I'll just be surprised that poor boy is even sane."

"Raised by the priesthood, you say." The younger man leaned forward from his seat across the table. "Who are his parents?"

"Aye, the priest took him in when he was but a wee lad. Ah, I remember those days, he was all short and skinny." He chuckled again recalling old memories, much to the un-interest oh his companion. "No one really knows who his parents are. His mother abounded him to the priests when he was a babe."

"What of his mother?"

"That I wouldn't be knowing. Though it's rumored she was lovely with hair as fair as her son's. But don' be trouble'n yourself about it. The only one who would know would be the clerics themselves. And there an't no point in askin' them, the will swear ignorance." The elder of the two men waived his fingers, gesturing to the waitress. She came over and filled his glass with some rum from a glass pitcher. "Thank ye' sweetheart. What would an old man like me do without such a wonderful woman like you?" Reaching out he wrapped his arm around her waist.

"Roger!" She giggled and batted playfully at his arms, attempting to get loose. "Stop that, before I take your drink away. Your making me feel guilty for allowing you so much to drink."

"Oui! Don't think such things madam! If I didn't get this rum from ye' I'd surely get it elsewhere!" She placed her hands on her hips, glaring down at him.

"And will ye' stop all this gossip about you being 'an old sack of bones'. You ain't old, just lazy and to stubborn to admit you can't get a job."

"We'll I can't say your wrong there, my dear lady. May the Lady bless you."

She laughed again kissed his cheek before hurrying off to the kitchen.

"Ah, she's a sweet one, that there." Roger grinned and leaned back in the booth.

"I can see." The other man across the table said in a rather annoyed voice, not the least bit amused. He sighed and began standing up. "Well thank you for your time sir."

"Aye, and you! Feel free to look me up if you wish, I'm here often"

"We'll see." He replied, almost hesitantly "May the Lady bless you"

"And may the Lord show mercy" With that the younger of the two left.


End file.
